Fine
by reading
Summary: Post The Kids Are Alright. Dean tells Sam about Ben.


Fine

Set after _The Kids Are Alright_

xxxx

"So, the kid. Ben." Dean didn't take his eyes off the road in front of him, just made an offering into the silence. He waited, sure that Sam would take the bait. Ask.

But there was nothing.

Dean cut his eyes to his brother.

Sam sat slouched in his usual position in the passenger seat, staring into middle distance, brow slightly furrowed, pulling absently at his lower lip with forefinger and thumb.

"Sam."

No response.

_Interesting_. Sam had been annoyingly attentive to Dean's slightest word or movement recently.

"Dude." Dean sharpened his voice, made it loud enough to elicit a flinch from Sam. "I've got less than a year. The least you could do is pay attention."

Sam blinked heavily, almost literally shaking himself as he turned to Dean. "Sorry," he said, the increasingly-familiar patient, pained up-curve of his lips indicating the hit by his brother. Dean ignored the shift of guilt in his gut.

"The kid. Ben," Dean said again. Casual.

Sam squinted at Dean in confusion. "Yeah?"

"He was Lisa's."

"Lisa?" Sam wasn't making the connection.

"Gumby-girl."

Face clearing, Sam nodded. "Oh."

Dean didn't elaborate and Sam shook his head, not getting it. When Dean didn't go on, Sam turned his head to stare out the window again.

Suddenly turned back to his brother.

"How old is he?" Sam's question was careful.

"Just turned eight." Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched Sam.

Sam's eyebrows drew down and he gave his brother a searching, uncertain look. "Dean," he started.

"He's not," Dean responded to the unspoken question, voice gruff in spite of himself. Sam didn't say anything and Dean went on. "But I wondered. He…" Dean trailed off.

"Wow." Sam looked a little stunned at the prospect. The lost prospect.

"Yeah."

There was a long silence before Sam broke it quietly.

"Did you want him to be?"

Dean cleared his throat around the sudden, weird ache in his throat.

"Nah," he said lightly. "Not really." He stopped. But when Sam didn't press, Dean went on. "I mean. It might have been kinda cool, you know? That there was someone… A kid…Someone for y-…"

Dean caught himself abruptly, swallowing the words that had almost betrayed him. He cast his brother a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. Maybe Sam hadn't….

But Sam looked like he'd been kicked in the gut, face pale in the reflected lights of the dash, eyes dark with sudden understanding.

"Dean."

But there was no real sound beyond the shaken rasp of Sam's indrawn, jagged breath.

_No. _

Dean hadn't meant to _do_ this.

He'd forgotten in the aftermath of "I may have a kid" and Lisa's offer to stay (be a family), about the fact that he wasn't doing this any more. Wasn't letting his guard down, wasn't inviting Sam in.

Without thinking he'd done what he'd been doing the last couple years – talked to Sam. He'd wanted Sam to know, for Sam to laugh with him at the absurd hope, the unanticipated regret, the relief. Sam who would understand, who would bear that possibility and all its subsequent disappointment with him.

But he wasn't _doing_ this. Wouldn't do this. To himself. To Sam.

Not now. Not any more.

So Dean ignored Sam's wavering, grief-stricken look. Plowed on like Sam's pain wasn't a knife in his belly.

"Like I've got time for some punk kid taggin' along after me." He reached over and gave Sam's knee a stinging slap. Blasted him with a shit-eating grin. "I already lived that dream once, huh, Sammy?"

Dean turned his attention out the front windshield. Pretended not to notice the long, heavy silence that followed. Finally shifted his gaze around to give Sam a challenging look, daring him…

But Sam just stared at him for a beat, face open and raw, before the mask slipped back into place. The gentle, resigned smile touched Sam's mouth briefly before he responded, eyes never leaving his brother, "Yeah."

And Dean pretended not to feel the slice of pain in his heart, the anguished twist of his gut.

The silence descended again, uncomfortable, leaden with the unspoken.

"You're OK with this, then," Sam said softly. Not able _not_ to respond to the moment of closeness with his brother even if had been snatched away almost as soon as it had been offered.

"Yeah," Dean said. "I'm fine."

_End_

xxxx


End file.
